


counting on hearts like yours

by MyCupOfTea



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anxiety, Homophobia, Jack's Overdose, M/M, mentions of:, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:48:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8361700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyCupOfTea/pseuds/MyCupOfTea
Summary: Or: "Four Conversations Jack Needed To Be Okay"





	1. June 4th, 2010 2:33 PM

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Icon For Hire's ["Counting on Hearts"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XKRido_aqEQ)

Recovery isn't what Jack expected it to be. 

He kind of thought it would be simpler, linear. That he had hit rock bottom and he could only go up, up, up, or not go anywhere. 

He doesn't wake up in the hospital, his mother crying relieved tears and his father there, present. Well, he does, but he doesn't remember any of it. He's told later he was in and out for the better part of two days after they knew he would make it, that he would pull through. 

He's taken straight from the hospital into rehab, and his first clear memory is holding the newspaper with Kent's face on it, and thinking loudly, clearly, fuck.

He makes it through rehab and feels better. He has his first dinner at home with his parents and feels worse. He coaches children and thinks, I can do this. He watches the Aces play and thinks, no I can't. 

He gets stuck in the cycle of up and down, of his emotions getting tossed around by the slightest event. 

He likes to think he's good at hiding the ridiculous mood swings, but, well. His parents know what to look for, now. And he's always been a shitty liar. It looks like fifteen minutes of death didn't change that at all. 

So he goes back to a psychologist, and a psychiatrist, though he can't for the life of him remember which is which, and switches medication more than once, and doesn't have a drink for two years. He coaches children and learns to love being on the ice again. He changes his phone number and doesn't tell Kent. 

It's not perfect, but it's better. 

He's feeling very bland one day several years after the fact, sitting on his couch and reading a book, trying to pretend he has something to do with his life besides bumming on his parents' couch now that the peewee league is out for the season. 

He's read the same sentence three times without understanding it when his mom startles him out of his daze by sitting next to him. 

"Jack," she begins, and her tone makes him put down his book and look at her in the eye. "Jack, can we have a talk?"

"Um," he says, and swallows hard. It's an improvement; a few years ago and a conversation starter like that would have had his heart racing and the beginnings of hyperventilation. "Of course. Is everything okay?"

Alicia sighs. 

"That's what I wanted to ask you. I'm. . . I'm worried about you. Your dad is too."

"Oh." A beat of silence. "I'm fine."

"Jack, both of us. . . you know we love having you home. We would keep you here forever, if. . ."

"If?" Jack said, trying not to let his voice tremble. 

"If we thought you were actually happy here."

Jack can't look at her in the eyes after that. He looks down to the coffee table, around to where he set down his book. He could say he's happy, happy sitting at home not doing much of anything, but it seems too big a lie. 

So he goes for honesty. 

"I don't know what else to do," he confesses, and this time his voice does tremble. 

"Oh, Jack," she said, stroking his hair like he dimly remembered her doing when he was very small, and then again when he was in the hospital. "We'll figure it out."

It felt a lot like therapy; once he started talking and being honest, he couldn't stop. 

"I miss playing. I miss it. I'm jealous of the peewee kids. I feel so - so stupid. I miss hockey, and I can't really think about doing much else. I just want to play again."

He's pathetic, and he knows it. He hazards a glance at his mother's face and - 

It's not crumpled up in sadness, or pity. She waits for him to look her in the eyes, and then nods, determined. 

"Then let's get you back out there."

It's - not what he expected. 

"How?" he said, a little harsher than he meant to. "I have no prospects. There is nowhere that will -"

"Jack."

"Sorry, sorry, I just -"

"I get it, Jack. You're frustrated. But." Alicia hesitated. "Your father and I were talking. And. . . What about going back to school?"

"College?"

"Yes. Play on a college team. Get back out there."

It's. . . Not a bad idea. Jack mulled it over. People got scouted out of college, people went to college instead of getting drafted. It could work. 

"Yeah, I. . . I think I would like that."

"Really?" his mother said, surprised. "Well! That's great." She waited a few beats before snickering behind her hand. 

"What?" Jack said, suspicious. 

"You're going to have to take the SAT."

Jack's face must have said it all, because she collapsed into laughter. But this time, Jack joined her.


	2. December 18th, 2015 9:42 PM

What makes the whole thing even funnier is that he and Shitty had been getting chirped in the group chat all day for being “old men”. The texts of “are you sure you’re going to be able to stay up that late” and “isn’t that past your bedtime” had been flowing in steadily since Jack had let them know that he’d be picking Shitty up from the train station in Samwell at nine before heading to the Haus the day before Shitty’s birthday.

To be fair, they were both yawning by the time they were walking up to the front door. Jack was looking forward to crawling into bed with Bitty and letting him talk him to sleep in person rather than on the phone. Being out to the team did have its advantages.

Jack had carefully avoided asking Shitty where he was planning on sleeping.

“I am so fucking ready to -” Shitty began as they crossed the threshold, but stopped when he saw the scene before them. “Huh,” he finally said, out of words.

“Finals must have been rough,” Jack observed.

“Are they even alive?” Shitty asked.

In the living room, every member of the Samwell Men’s Hockey team that had yet to leave for break was sprawled across various surfaces, fast asleep. Ransom and Holster were taking up most of the couch space, with Chowder sitting mostly on Ransom with his head tipped back against Holster’s shoulder. Bitty was wedged between Nursey and Dex on the floor, with each of them resting their head on Bitty’s shoulder. Jack had a suspicion he had sat there to make a physical barrier between them to avoid arguing. Lardo was upside down on the remaining couch cushion, the remote scattered from her hand. The TV was playing the soft static of a finished VHS; she must have turned it down when they started falling asleep.

Jack heard the soft click of a cell phone camera.

“Blackmail?” he said softly.

“Payback. And they called us old,” Shitty said while shaking his head. He checked the picture, making sure he could still see them even without the flash. “Guess we should probably wake them up.”

“Mm, not yet,” Jack said, throwing an arm around Shitty’s shoulders and dragging him up the stairs.

“Dude,” Shitty whisper-shouted. “I knew you were acting shifty. What the fuck is going on, Zimmermann?”

“Can’t I just have a casual chat with my bro?”

“Have you ever uttered the word ‘bro’ once in your entire life before just now?”

“Probably not,” Jack admitted.

“Yeah, let’s keep it that way.” Finally, Shitty realized where they were going. “Fuck, the reading room? This is serious, isn’t it.”

Jack ducked into Bitty’s room to grab a blanket before leading them out onto the roof. They were silent as they got settled. It hadn’t started snowing yet, thankfully, but it was well below freezing.

“Is Bitty going to be mad we’re using his blanket? It’s not exactly clean out here,” Shitty said, deflecting.

Jack shrugged.

“He knew I was going to bring you up here, so he offered.”

“You talked to Bits about this? Now I’m really worried,” Shitty joked, but stopped dead when he saw Jack’s hands shaking. “Shit, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Jack said, stuffing his hands under his thighs. He had learned that some things weren’t worth pushing through the anxiety they caused, that sometimes walking away was the right thing to do.

He had also learned that that wasn’t true when confronting your best friend.

Before Jack could drum up the courage to begin talking, Shitty began talking.

“Okay, look, Jack, I think I know why we’re here. And what I want to say is… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you when you said you didn’t have a girlfriend. I - I hate feeling like I pushed you to come out. That you wouldn’t have needed to if I hadn’t said those things. So -”

Jack, who had been sitting in slightly stunned silence, finally found his voice.

“No, Shits, that’s not what -”

“I mean, the whole thing is kind of a blur, but I just want you to know -”

“Shitty -”

“- that I am shocked and appalled -”

“Shitty -”

“- because I know better, and we both know that -”

“Shitty Knight shut up and let me talk before I lose my nerve.”

“Oh, yeah, uh - sorry, bro. Floor’s yours, go for it.”

Jack took a deep breath.

“I didn’t come up here to get an apology from you. I’m not mad at you - I mean, I kind of was, but more because Bitty was upset than anything else. If anyone needs an apology from you, it’s him. But that’s not really - I don’t need an apology from you. I brought you up here because… I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry - for what?” Shitty said, confused.

“For not being there for you. Shits, you just started law school, and I’ve been too caught up in my own… head, to realize that you’re having a hard time.”

“No, no, I don’t - I don’t need an apology from you, Jack -”

“No, but -” Jack made a frustrated noise when the words wouldn’t come out right. “Look, when I first came to Samwell, and I was - I was -”

“An anxious, closed off, miserable son of a bitch?”

“… Yeah, that, you stuck with me and you helped me. And I’m not sorry that I didn’t tell you about Bitty and me earlier, because I don’t owe you that information -”

“I know, I know, I’m -”

“- but I can’t blame you for trying to get it out of me when I basically shut you down every time you tried to talk about something more complicated than the weather.”

They were both quiet, contemplating the stars and the last light being turned off in the lacrosse house.

“I felt so fucking alone this last semester,” Shitty said finally. “I said that you didn’t have any other friends, but - that’s not true, you have your team, and Bits, and - you’re doing fine. It’s me. I don’t have any other friends.”

They’re both quiet for a bit after that. Jack knows Shitty well enough to know that he’s not finished, and Shitty knows Jack well enough to know that there’s no need to fill up the silence before he’s ready to move on.

“I just - I missed you. And Lards. And Bitty and Ransom and Holster and - And I hoped that I could reach out and it would be a-fucking-okay again. It would be okay that I can’t talk to anyone in my classes because they can’t see past their own greed to look at anyone else and they all hate each other and I hate all of them. I hate law school, Jack. It fucking sucks.”

“Will you tell me about it?” Jack asked, quietly.

“About law school?” Jack nodded. “Yeah, I mean - it’s a lot. There’s so much memorizing. Everyone is brilliant. Not just - not just Samwell brilliant. They’re take over the world brilliant.”

“You deserve to be there, Shits.”

“But I don’t - I don’t fit in.”

“Just because you don’t fit in doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be there.”

“I just -” Shitty is cut off by a beep from a phone between them. He digs around in pockets until he comes up with his phone. “Lards wants to know if we died on the way here. We should probably go back down.”

“Yeah.” Neither of them moved. “We’re okay, right?”

“Yeah, we’re - we’re good. Thanks, man. I needed to hear I wasn’t just - I needed to hear I hadn’t fucked up completely.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s - It’s not okay, but I understand. We’re good.”

“Good.” Jack nodded once, jerkily, and blew out a long breath.

“Can we be done with feelings for tonight?” Shitty requested.

“Oh thank God, yes.” The spell was broken and they stood up and made their way into the house carefully. Jack dropped the blanket just into the doorway of Bitty’s room.

They paused in the living room.

“Are you sure you don’t want a picture? Never know when you need good blackmail material,” Shitty remarked. Jack sighed.

“I already have so many pictures of Bitty sleeping on my phone that it would be better as blackmail against me rather than him.”

“That’s - adorable. Holy hell.”

“Did you two have a nice bro-to-bro chat?” came a sleepy voice from the other side of the couch.

Jack chuckled.

“Yeah, Lards. We’re good.”

“Good. Can you guys make everyone get up? If you don’t I’m going to have to kick Chowder in the face to get up.”

They got Nursey and Dex up first, which caused Bitty to stir.

“Hi Bits,” Jack said softly.

“Hey there, darlin’.”

“I’m going to pick you up.”

“'Kay - wait what -” Bitty yelped in surprise as Jack scooped him up. Shitty, who was helping Lardo up after rousing Chowder, Ransom, and Holster, shook his head fondly.

“That’s gonna be a fine in the morning,” Ransom groused and as he stood up and stretched.

“Good night you two - but not too good! You know how thin the walls are.”

Jack rolled his eyes fondly as they bid their good nights and made their way upstairs.

He laid Bitty down and went to close the door. As he was stripping down to his boxers, Bitty snuggled down further into the bed. Jack slid in next to him, kissing his forehead. Bitty pulled him closer and kissed him properly.

“Hi hun,” he said as he pulled back, foreheads pressed together. “Did you and Shitty have a good talk?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “I think we said a lot of things that needed to be said. Cleared the air.”

“That’s good,” Bitty said slowly.

“Go to sleep, Bits. I’ll tell you more about it in the morning.” Bitty made a small noise of assent against his collarbone, already drifting off. They were both mostly asleep when -

“Fuck,” Jack muttered. Bitty pulled back with a sleepy frown to look at Jack’s face.

“What? Are you okay?”

“I left my bag in the car,” he mumbled.

Bitty laughed.


	3. September 29th, 2017 8:57 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is much longer than the other two, because the important conversation Jack has is with Bitty. One of my favorite things about Bitty is that he takes care of people around him - but sometimes that means he's bad at advocating for himself, and it takes him the better part of a day to work up to it here.

Bitty really wasn't trying to wait up for Jack.

Really. He wasn't.

Jack's flight wasn't getting in until late and he was getting a ride home with Thirdy and his wife, so Bitty had every intention of being in bed at a reasonable hour and not seeing Jack until the next morning.

He just settled down on the couch to watch the news highlights and, well, next thing he knew Jack was gently shaking him awake.

"Mmf," he muttered, not fully awake. "'M sleepin'."

"C'mon Bits, let's go to bed," Jack said gently. "I would carry you but I think I might have strained my back during the game, so you have to get up."

That woke Bitty up.

"Are you all right?" he said, sleepily tracing Jack's features as if he could feel where the pain was coming from. Jack smiled softly and leaned his cheek into Bitty's hand.

"I'll be fine. But we both need to go to bed."

"Yeah," Bitty sighed, before heaving himself upright. Jack slowly stood up from where he had been kneeling and offered his hand. Bitty didn't use it to stand up, afraid of making it hurt worse, but he wrapped his fingers around Jack's and squeezed.

"Did you get a chance to sleep on the plane?" he asked, leaning his head on Jack's shoulder.

"No," Jack said, kissing the crown of Bitty's head. "But Poots did get an apparently hilarious shot of me asleep in Carrie and Thirdy's minivan on the way here."

Bitty snorted.

"I'll have to get a copy of that," he said as they made their way into the bedroom, hands linked.

"I'm sure it'll be on Twitter by morning."

"I'm sure," Bitty said with a sleepy smile.

They undressed quickly, slipping into bed. Jack groaned as he slid onto the mattress.

"I'll give you a massage tomorrow," Bitty said. "See if we can do anything about that."

"It can't be that bad," Jack said, trying to get comfortable, eventually settling on his back with a hiss. "I didn't notice until after the game."

"That's not saying a lot," Bitty said, nudging Jack's shoulder with his head. "Your mom told me that you didn't notice you had broken your nose until after a game once."

Jack groaned, not out of pain this time.

"I thought we had all agreed to forget about that."

Bitty chuckled, carefully curling into the circle of Jack's arm.

"Do you think you need to take something for it?"

"If I can't sleep I'll take some aspirin," Jack murmured. "But I don't think that'll be a problem."

"Mmkay," Bitty said, yawning. "Good night, honey. I'm glad you're home."

"Good night Bits."

\----------

Jack woke up early in the morning regretting not taking a pain killer before he went to sleep.

He rolled out of bed with a small sound of pain, and padded to the bathroom carefully. He takes three aspirin, resets his alarm for another hour and a half, and slides back into bed. There was no way he was making it on his morning run.

"Jack?" Bitty murmurs without opening his eyes.

"Go back to sleep, Bits." He rolled over slowly onto his side, and kissed Bitty's forehead.

"Your back?"

"I'll live." Bitty lifted up slightly so he could see his unimpressed expression. "I'm going to call the trainer's office once I know someone will be in. But go back to sleep for now - that's my plan."

"Mm."

Jack was glad he managed not to pull Bitty too far from sleep, because he didn't want him to worry while he waited for the painkillers to kick in. He had hoped that he would be able to go back to sleep, too, but it didn't seem like he was going to be that lucky.

He must have dozed off at some point, because he eventually woke up to his alarm.

The aspirin hadn't completely killed the pain, but he was able to get up easier and managed to avoid waking Bitty up. Bitty was working from home that day, but he had set an alarm not too much later than he normally would to get up for work.

He shut the door to the bedroom softly behind him and settled on the couch before he dialed the trainer's office.

Hearing "it's probably just a pulled muscle but you should come in and have it looked at anyway" didn't do much to make him feel better, but having an appointment made him feel a little better. A little.

Jack knew he had about twenty minutes before Bitty's alarm went off, which he figured was enough time to make breakfast. The aspirin had taken enough of the edge off of his pain that he was feeling up to it, and giving Bitty breakfast in bed had a pleasant, soft tinged edge to the idea.

The preseason game had only taken him away from Providence for three days, but he was starting to feel the reality of the season boring down, of the reality that living with Bitty meant that half the time he still didn't _live with Bitty_.

The preseason used to turn him into a sullen, monochromatic person each fall; it still did, but making his boyfriend breakfast seemed like a much better way to combat it than snapping at his teammates and hiding away in his room.

So he threw a batch of pancakes together, threw eggs and sausage together in a pan, and reminded himself that he's going to get this for the rest of his life; that even though the last few months since Bitty's graduation had felt like all his dreams come true, it wasn't a dream and it was _his life_.

(It scared him, sometimes, the commitment he and Bitty had for each other; but most of the time it just delighted him and he reveled in the security, in Bitty.)

 Even though it took him two trips to carry it all in, he managed to turn off Bitty's alarm before it went off, and instead sat on the edge of the bed and woke him up with gentle touches, not unlike he had done the night before when he came home to Bitty asleep on the couch.

"Good morning," he said when Bitty finally opened his eyes. Bitty blinked a few times before a slow smile spread across his face.

"Good morning, darlin'," he said, propping himself up against the headboard. ". . . Did you make breakfast?"

"Well, I don't have to leave for another forty minutes, so -"

Bitty reached up and kissed him softly.

"Thank you. Are you going to come sit with me and eat?"

Jack carefully settled himself against the headboard before passing Bitty a plate and his cup of coffee. They were quiet as they ate, Bitty leaning into Jack. He felt Bitty prepare himself to say something, before shutting his mouth a couple of times.

"How's your back?" Bitty eventually said, and Jack frowned, because he knew that wasn't what Bitty had really wanted to say.

But sometimes you had to wait for someone to decide when they were ready.

"Aspirin helped. I have an appointment with the trainer today, but they're pretty sure it's just a pulled muscle."

Bitty hummed. Jack sighed.

"Actually, I should probably get dressed so I can head out for that."

Bitty smirked.

"And stop distracting me from my work."

Jack stood up and looked down, hands on his hips, in mock outrage.

"Well, if making breakfast is so _distracting_. . ." he said, not bothering to finish the phrase, because Bitty is already laughing, standing up to kiss him.

"Go get dressed, Mr. Zimmermann."

\-----------

"Well," the trainer, an older man about his father's age, said, "the good news is that back injuries usually hurt worse than they are. The bad news is that they hurt worse than they are."

Jack grunted and rolled back over onto his back and sat up slowly. His painkillers were starting to wear off, and the pain was setting him on edge.

The Falconers' head trainer had never played hockey himself. Apparently he played baseball in college, only to end up with a career ending injury halfway through his first season of playing in the major leagues.

"Which is how I ended up in sports medicine," he had said when he had first introduced himself to Jack. "It was a stupid, easily preventable injury. So I now I get to tell that story to impressionable young athletes who try to do too much too fast."

Jack liked him, for the most part, but his back hurt and he really just wanted to go home and lie down.

"You've been taking aspirin for it?" the trainer confirmed, and Jack nodded. "Good. I'm giving you muscle relaxants, so take those instead when you're due for another dose. Take today and tomorrow off, and you can skate on Friday as long as it doesn't get worse. If that goes well, I don't see any reason why you should have to sit the game out on Saturday."

Jack thanked him and headed home.

Bitty was sitting at the kitchen island on his laptop when he got home, and Jack took a moment to enjoy Bitty in old sweatpants and a Falconers sweatshirt, sitting at their island and working. There was a plate with a half eaten sandwich that was being ignored as Bitty frowned at his laptop.

"Hi Bits," he said, when Bitty didn't seem to notice he had walked in. "Do you have a second to spare for me to distract you for lunch?"

Bitty looked up from his laptop and smiled, then frowned when he saw Jack's face.

"What's wrong, honey? What did the trainer say?" He stood up and raised onto his toes to rub at the space between Jack's eyebrows that Jack hadn't notice was pinched tight in tension until just then.

"Back hurts. They gave me muscle relaxants and today and tomorrow off. It's probably just a strain."

"Well, you shouldn't take those on an empty stomach," Bitty said, and stood up to bustle around the kitchen. "Go sit down on the couch, Jack. I'll bring it in."

Bitty came back with a sandwich too fast for him to have made it in the short time it took Jack to get to the couch and settle. He brought his own sandwich, too, and settled next to Jack on the couch. They ate in companionable silence. Jack swallowed two pills once he had finished his sandwich, and settled further into the couch.

"Do you think a massage would help, or make it worse?" he heard Bitty say softly. Jack had the feeling Bitty was going to say something else, then changed his mind.

"I kind of just want to lie down and take a nap," he admitted. "And I don't think I could lay on my stomach long enough for a massage until these kick in."

"Well then, let's get you to bed."

Jack appreciated Bitty for many, many things; he had for long before they started dating. But at that moment he appreciated Bitty for helping him out of clothes and keeping up a steady stream of chatter unrelated to the fact that Jack was having trouble getting out of his jeans.

Bitty helped him get settled mostly comfortably flat on his back and brushed a hand through his hair and a kiss on his cheek.

"Feel better," was the last thing he heard before he drifted off.

\-----------

Waking up was a groggy process that Jack only fought through because he could hear Bitty moving around in the kitchen, which usually meant only delicious things.

He shambled out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where he collapsed into one of the chairs at the island.

"Hi sweetheart, how are you feeling?"

Jack took a moment to take inventory of himself.

"Better. A little stiff." He yawned. "Groggy."

"Muscle relaxers will do that. Food should help." Jack couldn't help the sappy smile that he felt fall across his face.

"You say that all the time." He watched Bitty turn around in mock outrage only to stop when he saw Jack's face. He watched a matching grin slide across Bitty's face and wondered how he must have looked to Bitty, leaning heavily against his hand on the counter and probably looking more than a little dopey.

"And have I ever led you astray before?"

"With food? Never. I've never been on the receiving end of one of your bribery pies."

Bitty rolled his eyes but he was still smiling and maybe it was the muscle relaxants talking but Jack never wanted to leave that moment.

"That's because I made you bake your own bribery pies your senior year."

"Oh, is that what that was? And here I thought you were doing it out of the goodness of your heart." Bitty just laughed at him and scooped something out of a pot off the stove into a bowl.

"Where do you think would be comfortable for you to sit?"

Jack shrugged.

"I'm good here. I feel much better." He frowned. "Although I do feel like I just ate."

"I suppose that's because you were sleeping, but it's been close to seven hours since you've eaten a meal, Jack."

"It's been. . ." For the first time Jack noticed that it was dark outside the wide windows and that all that lights were on outside of the bedroom. "Huh."

"You heal better when you're asleep!" Bitty said to him, in a sing-song voice that Jack had come to associate with Bitty quoting his mother. "You needed that." He placed a bowl of stew in front of Jack. "I've got bread to go with it. I've managed to salvage it, but I'm vetoing this recipe from the book Clara's friend of a friend is trying to get published. _I_ managed to know that you need to halve the salt if you want this to be edible, but the point of most cookbooks is that you don't need to know everything about what you're making, Lord."

Jack was fairly certain that when the main publishing house in Providence had put out a job advertisement asking for someone with expertise in the cookbook industry they hadn't been ready for Eric Bittle. But then again, Jack hadn't been ready either, and that worked out for him in the end.

They'd hired Bitty for his ideas of what cookbooks should be, his rapidly expanding social media reach, and his ability to edit recipes by actually making them.

Bitty _loved_ it.

The stew ended up being pretty good, narrowly avoided over-salting or not, and Jack happily inhaled two bowlfuls.

"You're right, I feel much better." Bitty looked smug, but it was a look that was soft around the edges.

"Food helps. When do you have to take them again?"

Jack glanced at the clock.

"An hour."

"If you want to go back to sleep until then, I can wake you up."

"Mm." He thought about Bitty alone in the apartment while he was on the road, thought about him working while Jack slept, thought about the upcoming season and all the mayhem it would bring. "They're just going to put me to sleep again when I take them. I want to spend as much time with you as possible."

They settled on the couch. Jack felt the twinge and ache in his lower back that meant that the muscle relaxants were wearing off, so he settled on his back with his head at the opposite end of couch from Bitty, feet propped up on the arm and Bitty's laptop warming his shins. Jack was idly watching the highlights from the Schooners/Kings game - it was looking like the Schooners were in need of a rebuild, which is especially sad when they've been around less than a decade - and trying not to doze off to the rhythmic sounds of Bitty's laptop keys.

"Jack?" Bitty started.

"Mm?" Jack responded, eyes slipping closed.

"Can we talk about something?"

Jack opened his eyes and lifted his head up enough to see Bitty frowning intently at his laptop.

"Uh, sure." Jack made a motion to get up and saw Bitty's face crumple.

"No, honey, stay there. You don't feel well, and this can wait -"

"Just hold on a second, Bits - can you move your computer -" Laptop safely stored on the end table, Jack slowly levered himself up. "You've had something on your mind all day. I'd feel better knowing you felt better about whatever it is."

Bitty bit his lip.

"It's silly," he warned. "I feel silly about it."

"I still want to talk about it."

Bitty looked down, where the laptop had been resting.

"I want to help pay rent," he said in a rush, words blending together. Jack blinked.

"Okay," Jack said, bemused. "Why? You don't need -"

"I kind of do," Bitty mumbled, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around him.

 _Fuck_.

"I mean, I know _we_ don't me to help pay rent," Bitty said, words speeding up. "I know you have enough money to live here on your own and you have been but - but that's exactly it."

"I don't think I understand," Jack said slowly. "I want to, but I don't."

" _I_ need me to help pay rent. It's - it doesn't even have to be half or anything. I just - You've lived here for two years. I haven't, but I've visited and - you were here and I wasn't all the time. But now it's the other way around and - sometimes it feels like I'm visiting, still. Instead of living here."

Jack's heart broke a little bit, because - what the fuck? His boyfriend felt like a visitor in his own apartment?

"Bits, I am so sorry that I made you feel like that -"

But Bitty shook his head no before he could even finish the sentence.

"Jack, no. This isn't about you. Okay? This isn't about you. This is just - about money. And - actually feeling like something has changed from last summer. I know I'm not moving back to the Haus. That much feels real. But sometimes it doesn't feel real that I'm staying here."

Jack kind of understood that. It didn't feel real when he first moved in either. But Bitty kept coming to stay, and that helped, and - well, it took time.

"So I feel a little disjointed. A little stuck between. And -" Bitty sighed deeply, like he didn't want to say what was on his mind. Jack waited; Bitty would say it eventually. "I'm going to be here more than you. You're only here a little more than half the time during the season? I'm going to be here all the time. It just. It would help me feel a little bit more - a little bit less like I'm always waiting for you to come home."

"Okay."

Because Jack could argue and say that money didn't matter, that he'd stood in the kitchen and thought of Bitty right before he made the decision to sign the lease, before he had even seen the rest of the apartment. He could say that he didn't just want Bitty to help pick out furniture because he had better taste, but because he wanted him to leave a mark on the apartment too. He could say that coming home last night to Bitty asleep on the couch after a roadie was something he had thought of the day the couch was delivered. He could say all of those things, and it wouldn't matter.

"Okay?"

"Yes," Jack said with a nod. "I don't - I don't completely understand. But - I don't think I _need_ to. This is going to help you feel better?"

"Yes," Bitty said with a nod.

"That's all I need to understand. Is - Is that okay with you?"

"Yes," Bitty said, and sighed with relief. They were quiet for a few moments, before an alarm went off.

"Are you baking something?" Jack asked.

"No, you're due for your meds."

Jack took his pills and they got ready for bed side by side. His back felt tight and sore, but nothing like the hot band of pain from earlier.

Jack slid into bed next to Bitty, who was setting an alarm on his phone, and felt more like an adult than ever.

Which was hysterical, considering he's legally been an adult for close to ten years, but.

But there was something about lying on his back, the love of his life curled into his side, in their apartment, after they had had a mature and calm conversation about money that just - made it feel real.

He understood a little bit more what Bitty was saying earlier.

He fell asleep almost immediately, only to be woken up a few minutes later as Bitty rolled over in bed to grab his phone again with urgency.

"Wuzzit?" is the most intelligent thing he managed to get his mouth to say.

"Shh, just remembered I forgot to ask Poots for the picture. Go back to sleep," Bitty said, tapping on his phone with one hand and sliding a soothing hand down Jack's arm with the other.

"What pic - Bitty!"

Bitty just laughed before setting the phone back down and laying back down. 

"At least it isn't Twitter, honey."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will I ever write something that does not contain a copious amount of sleepy cuddling? Probably not. I love it.


	4. January 13th, 2018 8:51 AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is super long because 1) Kent Parson and Jack Zimmermann are busy and stubborn people and it takes close to a year for them to find time to talk and 2) I have no self control when it comes to self indulgent writing. 
> 
> I attached end notes that might be necessary for those who have been in an unhealthy or abusive relationship, as Jack and Kent discuss their relationship in fairly great detail. Please read those if you have concerns, and shoot me a message or an ask on tumblr if you want more clarification.

It had been a conversation that happened in fits and starts, during Skype calls and furtive weekend visits, and eventually Bitty and Jack had come to several conclusions.

  1. Bitty would move in after graduation. (Bitty was not going to move into his own apartment in Providence, not when he would end up in Jack's bed 90% of the time anyway.)
  2. They didn't want to be in the closet while living together. (Jack hadn't been about to jump through the "he's just a roommate" hoop.)



So, they set an appointment and talked to George before Bitty left for Georgia to spend Christmas and part of his winter break with his parents.

("It's a good thing," Bitty insisted, trying to smooth out the worry lines on Jack's face. "It's not my ideal situation, either, but insisting I come home for one more Christmas doesn't seem so bad if they'll be better about all the other Christmases I plan on spending with you."

"I'm just worried they're going to try to convince you not to move in after all," Jack finally confessed. "Or that you are better off without me, so you don't have to be worried about walking around your own hometown -"

"Honey, I am not above making you buy me a plane ticket and flying me back here early if it gets ugly. I picked being myself and being happy over my homophobic hometown a long time ago, and I'll pick being myself and being happy over my homophobic family if I have to. And being myself means being out and being happy means being with you.")

George had been just as supportive as she had always been, but most of the options she laid out had meant one thing for Jack.

("Social media will help," she insisted. "Twitter, Instagram, something. I'll talk to PR and explain, but they're going to say the same thing. We could set up a press conference for the both of you -" Jack and Bitty blanched "- or you could just announce yourself and we can take over fielding the nastiness for you."

"We can't just use Bitty's?" Jack had asked.

"You could post it on Bitty's - but he needs to be able to tag you in it.")

And that's how a follow on Twitter had started it all.

"Bitty," Jack said. "Bits, I think Kent just followed me on Twitter."

Bitty raised an eyebrow.

"Kent Parson?"

Jack just nodded.

"Huh. Well, I guess he's allowed. If you're uncomfortable, you can block him."

Jack put all the blame on that incident, because within days he, Bitty, and Kent were all following each other. And then:

"Jack, can I ask you something?" Bitty had said hesitantly over Skype in mid February.

"Of course." Jack paused. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, it's just - how widespread were those rumors about you and Kent?"

Jack grimaced.

"They were pretty bad."

"Like. . . someone is going to put two and two together when you announce you're dating a man and come up with four?"

Jack swore.

And then had _another_ meeting with George.

\------------------

Kent wracked his brains as he made his way to PR. Really, he had been good lately. Just good natured jokes back and forth with teammates and a couple tweets about his cat. He really couldn't imagine what they could have to talk with about.

"Kent. We got a phone call from the Falconer's PR team."

Kent raised an eyebrow.

"Okay?"

"And Jack Zimmermann is planning on coming out with his boyfriend towards the end of the season. They thought it would be prudent to let us know, in light of the rumors about the two of you when you were younger."

Kent thought it over.

"That was considerate of them," he finally settled for saying. "Anything else?"

"Yes, they gave us Zimmermann's personal number to pass on to you."

Oh. That was a different story indeed.

\-------------

He didn't call Jack right away, because he was a busy person. Jack was a busy person. They had shit to do that wasn't bringing out old skeletons out of the closet where they were tucked away nicely.

It wasn't because he was afraid. Not at all.

(Maybe a little bit.)

Before Kent knew it, playoffs were starting and both the Falconers and the Aces were fighting to stay in it. Neither were favorites to win, but they wanted it and they were willing to fight for it.

Kent was idly scrolling through Twitter, mostly to keep himself awake while he waited to board their flight back to Vegas, when he saw it.

It was a great picture, he had to admit. Bitty was clutching his mortar board to his chest with one hand, while the other rested on Jack's chest. Jack's lips were pressed into the swell of Bitty's cheek, smile evident even through the kiss. Bitty was beaming like someone had handed him the sun on a silver platter.

**Jack Zimmermann @jlzimmermann**  
Happy to be back at Samwell, both as an alumni and to support my boyfriend @omgcheckplease

**Eric Bittle @omgcheckplease  
** Now back to Providence, there's a Cup on the line RT: @jlzimmermann Happy to be back at Sam...

**Bob Zimmermann @bobzimmermann  
** Jack's always been a better shot than me with a camera AND a puck, but I'm proud to say this picture is my handiwork RT: @jlzimmermann Happy to be back at Sam...

**Alicia Zimmermann @azimmermann  
** So proud of all my boys! (And more than a little jealous that I couldn't be there) RT: @jlzimmermann Happy to be back at Sam...

**Providence Falconers @pvdfalconers  
** The Providence Falconers franchise stands behind our players and their families, and stands in support of diversity.

**Providence Falconers @pvdfalconers  
** Congratulations to part of the #FalconersFamily, @omgcheckplease, on graduating today! RT: @jlzimmermann Happy to be back at Sam...

There's more pictures, more tweets, and Kent forced himself to look through it. To a certain extent it didn't matter, because Jack was out now. With Eric Bittle. Alicia and Bob were tweeting supportive tweets. The Falconers were tweeting supportive tweets.

It was real.

So Kent walked a decent way from the where the rest of the team is sitting, and called Jack. He took a moment to be thankful for the empty airport; apparently red eye flights out of San Jose to Vegas weren't that popular.

"'ello?" Jack said, sounding half asleep, and Kent almost dropped the phone.

"Jack, um. Hey."

"Kent?" Jack asked, confused, sounding a little bit more awake. Kent heard rustling in the background. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I - I just saw that you came out today and - just wanted to call and check in."

Kent could feel the disapproving frown from several thousand miles away. He also heard some murmuring in the background and Jack saying to someone "it's Kent. No, go back to sleep".

"Kent, I appreciate it, but it's late. Can we talk another time?"

"Ah, c'mon, Zimms, it's barely - you're on the east coast. Shit, fuck, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. And Kent, I really do appreciate you calling. The next time you're in Providence, we should talk."

_Yeah, no_ Kent thought, because adult Jack's version of "talk" means actual talking, probably about feelings or some shit. Kent was gonna take a hard pass on that one.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry for waking you up. Kick some ass, yeah? I'd hate to have to kick some other team's ass."

"Sure, Parse," Jack said, and it's almost fond.

"See ya, Zimms."

Kent didn't sleep the whole plane ride home.

\-----------

Kent didn't text Jack in the morning saying he was sorry for waking him up.

Jack didn't text Kent when the Aces were knocked out in the first round of playoffs.

Kent didn't text Jack when the Falconers were knocked out in the conference finals.

It felt remarkably like getting back to normal.

They all occasionally liked each other's tweets, they never retweeted anything, and Kent and Jack didn't text and they certainly didn't call.

Jack and Bitty were sprawled across the couch. Jack had gotten home in the early afternoon, and Bitty had gotten home from work shortly after five, collapsed on top of Jack on the couch, and refused to move.

Jack wasn't complaining. The late afternoon sun felt good coming in through the windows, Bitty felt good on top of him, and he felt good knowing that he got to have this. Got to have a lazy day with Bitty, reading while Bitty eased in and out of sleep.

Eventually, just as Jack was thinking that he should start on dinner soon, Bitty stretched and yawned, before curling up a little closer.

"Hey, Bits. Ready for dinner?"

"Mm, in a minute," Bitty said, propping his chin on Jack's chest and giving him a sleepy smile. Jack continued the slow sweep of his hand across Bitty's lower back, just under the hem of his shirt.

They stayed like that for a few minutes until Jack's stomach growled. Bitty laughed softly.

"Dinner time? Can we just. . . order something and put it on real plates and pretend we weren't too lazy to make dinner?"

"Sounds good to me." They finally disentangled themselves.

Jack ordered from their favorite Chinese delivery place and Bitty poured them a glass of wine.

"While we're pretending we have our lives together," he said, shrugging, as he handed Jack a glass. "Might as well."

"Is this the one my parents got us when you graduated?" Bitty nodded. They shrugged and took a sip.

They looked at each other, and then down at their glasses.

"It's - um." Bitty wrinkled his nose.

"That's -" Jack tried to start. They looked at each other before looking down at their glass and taking another sip.

"Oh God, nope, I can't do it," Bitty said, setting down the glass and rinsing his mouth out with water directly from the sink.

"Oh thank God," Jack said, dumping both their glasses down the other side of the sink.

"Why is this so bad?" Bitty wondered out loud, inspecting the label.

"I don't know, they usually have better taste than that," Jack said, but it came out a little garbled from where he had replaced Bitty under the faucet.

"Hey, honey?" Bitty said later from where they were settled on the couch again. "Have you heard from Kent Parson lately?"

Jack finished chewing and swallowed hard.

"Not since graduation. Why?"

"Hm, just curious." Bitty was quiet for a moment. "Is there any reason you haven't tried to get in touch with him?"

"I don't really think he wants to talk to me."

"But he called you, didn't he?" Bitty said, frowning.

"Yeah, but he had had my number for months before that." Jack shrugged. "It would be nice to talk to him, and. . . you know, actually talk. But I'm not going to push him into doing that."

"Maybe he's thinking the same thing?" Bitty suggested, before sighing. "Forget I said anything. I just was wondering if it would be good for you to talk to him about it. Just. . . actually put whatever happened between you two actually in the past, instead of just pretending you've both worked through it. But I'm being a hypocrite, because I don't think I would do it if I were you, either."

Bitty is a wise man, Jack had always known. But sometimes he fell for the happy baker face as much as anyone else, and he loved getting reminded of how wrong he was.

\--------------

Bitty didn't bring it up again until well into the season. Jack was playing two games at home in early December, then he wouldn't be back until the day before Christmas Eve, so they were taking advantage of him being home to decorate the apartment together.

"Do you think you'll see Kent when you're in Vegas?" Bitty said where they were reclining on the couch, admiring their handiwork.

"We _are_ going to be playing each other," Jack said. Bitty shot him a withering look. "Okay, okay, I know that's not what you were asking. But no, probably not. We don't normally see each other off the ice when we play."

"Is that because you don't want to or because you usually don't have time? Are you worried about it at all?"

Jack considered for a long moment.

"Probably a little bit of both. And - I'm not that concerned. I have my team, he has his. It's - we both have support systems and distractions. No need to get in each other's face."

"And you haven't heard anything from him since graduation?"

"Nope.” Jack sighed. "I might try and talk to him while I'm there, this time."

"Really?" Bitty said, not bothering to hide the shock in his voice.

"You sound surprised."

"You seemed pretty adamant last time."

"Well I - I thought about what you said. And you're right, we've both been pretending to deal with this by not dealing with this. He hurt me before my overdose, and I hurt him after. So he hurt me back. It. . . It would be nice. To stop hurting each other."

Bitty was quiet for a long moment.

"I think - as long as you're both careful - it could be good for you. For both of you."

Jack pulled him a little closer and settled further into the couch.

"Yeah, I think so too."

\-------------

It was snowing lightly in Providence when they landed, small flakes that melted as soon as they hit the ground. It felt nice after the stifling heat of the airport, but the hug from Bitty was even better. Bitty was warm and snuggly in his Samwell sweatshirt and Falconers sweatpants leaning up against the side of his truck, and Jack was so, so happy to be home.

"Hi, honey." Jack could hear the smile in Bitty's voice. "Good flight?"

"No," Jack answered honestly, letting him go and chuckling a bit. "But, better now."

"Good. Let's get y'all home?"

"Y'all" was Marty, Thirdy, and Tater piled into the back seat of Bitty's truck.

"Thank you, Eric. My wife really appreciates not having to get the kids out of bed the day before Christmas Eve," Marty said.

"Carrie said the same thing," Thirdy said. "Thank you, it really makes life easier."

"And I like not having to call a cab!" Tater said, leaning forward, braced on the front seats, all exuberant enthusiasm in contrast to everyone else's tired quietness.

"It's no problem. Nobody is _calling a cab_ the night before Christmas Eve."

Before long they were waving Tater off, everyone else dropped off and home, and they were alone in the cab.

Jack turned away from seeing Tater walk into his house to find Bitty watching him.

"Hi honey," he said again, laying a hand against Jack's cheek. Jack smiled at him. "I missed you."

Jack leaned in to kiss him gently.

"Missed you too. Can we go home?" Jack said, hoping he didn't sound like he begging too much.

But Bitty laughed, and Jack figured it didn't matter too much.

"Sure," Bitty said. "Time for bed."

The drive was quiet and Jack was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. It had been a long day, long flight, and he really just wanted to already be in bed.

"So. . . you didn't talk with Kent?" Bitty said.

"Mm, no," Jack said from where he was trying to fight off a doze against the window. "Texted him. He was busy. Gonna meet up when the Aces are here."

"That sounds good. Did you already invite him?"

Jack made a noncommittal noise, and didn't open his eyes.

"Oh, sweetheart. We've got to get you in bed."

Jack made another noise, but still didn't open his eyes.

"Jack. C'mon. Up you get."

Jack opened his eyes then, confused. He realized that Bitty had parked and walked around to the passenger side door, that they were home.

"There we go. Let's go."

Jack groaned and slid out of the truck. Bitty wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned in as best he could with Jack's duffel in the way. Jack felt himself swaying slightly in the elevator going up, not really trying to stop the snuffling noises he was making into Bitty's hair as his eyes creeped shut.

"Don't fall asleep on me. I can't carry you like you can carry me."

Jack made a noise of protest, but let himself be led into the apartment. He didn't waste any time before starting to take off his traveling suit, not caring that he was leaving a trail from the door to the bedroom, an exhausted imitation of a romcom cliche.

"How are you not asleep on your feet," Jack mumbled as Bitty helped his sleep-clumsy fingers undo his belt. "You've been up longer than me."

" _I_ did not play a hockey game that went into overtime today. _I_ did not cross three time zones today. _I_ , in fact, got a nap after work today because I knew ahead of time that I was going to be picking up four exhausted hockey players from a two week long road trip that would make them a danger to themselves and society to drive." He kissed the tip of Jack's nose, reachable because of the heavy weight of exhaustion on Jack's shoulders, and made him step out of his pants and shoes. "In to bed, Jack."

Jack didn't so much get into bed as he did collapse _onto_ the bed, dimly aware of Bitty pulling the covers out from under him - no small feat - and making him comfortable before sliding in himself.

Jack tried to pull Bitty closer, mumbling at him as he did. Bitty moved closer, and huffed a laugh against Jack's cheekbone when Jack finally got him arranged.

"You're going to have to translate that, or I'm just going to have to assume that was French for 'cuddle'."

\---------------

It felt oddly like designing a play.

"Okay, so, the biggest question: do you want me here or not?" Bitty asked, cradling his coffee.

"I don't _not_ want you here?" Jack said, looking across the room at the whiteboard, wondering if it would be too much if he got up and grabbed it.

"Would you feel safe if I wasn't here?" Bitty clarified. Jack frowned.

"Like, physically, or do I think he's going to try to, I don't know, make out with me -"

"No, it's not that - I just - I remember what he said to you at Samwell. And - you didn't really talk to me again until after break, but - I know it really got to you. I don't want that to happen again."

Jack sighed.

"I can't guarantee he won't do something like that, since I don't really know him anymore, but I don't think we'll get anywhere if you're here. I don't know if he'll talk to me if you're here."

Bitty nodded, slowly.

"Okay, so - what if I'm here when he gets here in the morning, and then I'll go to work but take a half day? That way I can come back here and - just be here. In case of - everything."

"That sounds good. It won't - you're sure it won't be a problem if you took a half day?"

Bitty snorted.

"Nope. They usually realize that when I say I'm taking a half day I'm bringing some kind of food the next day. It'll be fine."

\--------------

Kent didn't quite know what to expect.

He had seen Jack in Canada, playing in the Q. He had seen Jack in Montreal, with his parents. He had seen Jack at Samwell, in a frat house. He had seen Jack in Providence, on the ice. But he imagined there would be something different about seeing Jack in his own apartment.

And it was. Jack was comfortable, settled in, in a way he hadn't been even at Samwell. He told Kent to come in with minimal stammering, and then they stood and stared at each other awkwardly until Bitty came out of the bedroom.

"Oh, uh - hello Kent. There's muffins if you want one."

"Not right now, thanks. Um, it's - Bitty, right?"

"My friends call me Bitty," he says. "You can call me Eric."

Okay, so Kent probably deserved that.

Bitty - Eric - leaned up to kiss Jack on the cheek, Jack leaned down so he can reach. It's an obviously practiced, comfortable gesture and Kent tried to ignore the way it made his stomach turn.

"I'll be back in a few hours," Eric murmured.

"Have a good day," Jack murmurs back, and then Eric is gone. The door clicked behind him.

"We do have muffins," Jack said, turning back to Kent. "And pie. Er, several pies. A couple different kinds of bread." Kent leaned over so he could see around Jack and saw an assortment of baked goods on the counter. He didn't say anything, just raised an eyebrow. Jack shrugged. "Bitty bakes when he gets stressed."

"What's he stressed about?"

"Um - you. Sort of."

Kent frowned.

"What, does he think I'm going to - I don't know, jump your bones or something?"

"I think he's more afraid you're going to hurt me."

Kent felt the alarmed expression on his face, and Jack must see it too.

"Not physically, of course. I think - well. The only other time he met you, it wasn't exactly under the greatest of circumstances."

"Oh. That's. . ." Kent blew out a long breath. "I get that."

They stared in silence. Kent appreciated that Jack didn't ask him to sit down; he already felt like crawling out of his skin.

"So, I guess. . . I never said sorry about that night."

Jack didn't say anything, just stared.

"I said a lot of fucked up things. I'm glad you're happy with the Falconers; it seems like you made the right choice. Your dad is so proud of you - always has been. I shouldn't have said anything I said, and I'm sorry I said it."

Jack mumbled something.

"What?"

"I said, you shouldn't have come in the first place."

Kent knew Jack too well. Jack knew Kent too well. It wouldn't have been a problem if they had still been together, or if they had parted on good terms. But now there's just a lot of anger, and they both know right where to punch.

"I'm not sorry about that," Kent said.

"I know. You still shouldn't have done it."

"No, I should have. You just didn't want me to have done it."

"Exactly. I didn't want you there. You didn't give me any warning, didn't ask me at all. You just showed up and demanded I do what you wanted." Jack finally looked into Kent's eyes. "I just wanted to be left alone."

"I didn't want to be left alone! But you did. You left me all alone. You didn't text me, or call me. I moved thousands of miles away. I didn't know anybody. All I wanted was to talk to my best fucking friend."

"Poor you," Jack said, and Kent knew that look. It was the same look he always used to get when they would argue. "You were living the dream. Playing pro, the new superstar. While I was in fucking _rehab_. I did what I had to do, and you weren't good for me." Jack shrugged. "You probably never were."

"And the whole time, all I wanted was my best friend."

"Kent, we were never going to play together again. We were going to go one and two to different teams and you knew that. It's not my fault you didn't think about that until after I ended up half dead."

"We were never going to play on the same team, but that didn't mean we weren't going to play _together_. That we weren't going to complain about the older guys together, swap stories, commiserate about training schedules and workouts and -"

"Kent. Kent, we weren't going to do that. Do you not remember what it was like? We were at each other's throats for months before hand. We weren't good for each other. You weren't good for me. _I_ wasn't good for _you_."

"So - so what? You never loved me? You didn't miss me?" That had been the one thing that had gotten Kent through some of those first nights away. _He loves you he loves you he loves you he needs time just time just time_

"That's not what I said. They kept my phone away from me for a little while. All I wanted to do was talk to you. I was pissed at you, I was furious. It wasn't just you - I was mad at everything. I begged my parents to let me text you, or to text you from me. They wouldn't let me. The doctors thought it would be a bad idea, and I did too, before rehab really started."

"And then when you got out? What about then? You had a lot of time, Jack. You couldn't even let me know you were okay?"

"I was afraid. I didn't want -"

"Bull shit, Jack. You weren't afraid of me."

"Let me finish a fucking sentence, _crisse_. I didn't want to hear about your great accomplishments breaking hockey records when my accomplishments were getting through dinner without having a panic attack. I was so jealous. And. . . I was afraid that you would think I wasn't cutting you out. I didn't want to. . . not lead you on, that's not it exactly. . . I didn't want you to think it wasn't over."

"Oh, don't worry, I got that memo."

"Clearly not, considering you kept showing up at Samwell." Jack rolled his eyes and Kent just got madder.

"What was I supposed to do? Just let you go? No, Jack. You didn't even give me a chance to fight."

"You showed up at my school with everything I had ever wanted to show off. You weren't trying to fight for me. You were trying to fight against me. And you know it. Kent. We're not good for each other."

"And what, _he_ is?"

"Yes," Jack said, confidently. "He is. He makes me happy. He makes me want to be a better person."

"Gross."

"Grow up."

"So what, that's it? He's it?"

"For the rest of my life, if he'll have me." Jack shrugged. "But I didn't want to talk to you about Bitty."

"Oh really, Jack? You don't want to talk about the love of your life to your ex?"

"You always do this. You come around and start acting like you're entitled to my decisions."

"Why are we really here, Jack? Did you invite me over just so you could yell at me about how much we've hurt each other over the years? Rehash all the ways I've fucked up over the years?" Kent spat.

"No," and all the fight went out of Jack. "I invited you over so that we could get some closure. I'm sorry I cut you out without telling you what was going on. I'm sorry we keep fighting each other. I'd like to stop hurting you. I'd like you to stop hurting me."

Kent thought about it. Pondered it. Finally, he sighed.

"This is a shit conversation to have sober," he finally declared. Jack's lips quirked up into a smirk.

"All we have is really bad wine, unfortunately."

"Really bad wine?"

"My parents keep sending us really, really horrid wine. We usually have to dump the bottle."

"This has happened more than once?" Kent felt his eyebrows raise.

"Bits' graduation, Thanksgiving - both of them, Christmas, New Years. . . Bitty thinks they're doing it to see how long they can go before we call them on it. They do normally have pretty good taste."

"They wouldn't -" Kent is suddenly struck by the image of the Zimmermanns tasting wine, laughing and trying to find the worst one to send to their son and his boyfriend, who are probably both too polite to call them on it. "They would. They totally would. What are you going to do about it?"

"Send them a shitty bottle back, eventually."

Kent threw his head back and laughed.

"Here, give me your phone, I have a suggestion. It's God awful." He typed it into Jack's phone. "I'm glad someone is finally going to benefit from the fact that I had to taste that awful stuff."

"I appreciate your sacrifice," Jack said dryly.

Kent handed Jack his phone back.

It's nice, helping Jack get back at his parents. Casually taking his phone, Jack's dry sarcasm keeping him company.

It can't last. Kent tried to tell Jack.

"I can't be friends with you," was what he said instead.

Jack flinched. Less so, Kent thought, from the actual words, than the fact that he hadn't been expecting them right there.

"I can't do it. You're right. We're not good for each other. Maybe once upon a time we could have been, but. . . you're not going to love me like I want you to and I'm not going to pine for you."

"I know. I don't want you to."

They were quiet. Neither wanted to talk, not wanting to rip off the band aid.

"I still care about you, Zimms," Kent finally said.

"I care about you, too, Kenny. That's not going to change. That's why I invited you over here." Jack took a deep breath. "Neither of us should be hurting this bad. I don't want you to hurt over this anymore."

Kent blew out a long breath, then grabbed Jack into a hug.

"I'm going to try not to miss you," he said finally.

"Me too, Kenny. Me too."

Kent had to pause once the door closed behind him, having a feeling Jack was doing the same thing on the other side. He took a couple of deep breaths, feeling a little nauseous in his stomach but no longer sick in the heart, and walked away.

\-------------

Jack was reading on the couch when Bitty got home. He heard the key in the lock, the slight hesitation where there normally wasn't any, and then Bitty walking.

"Jack?"

Instead of answering, Jack leaned back until his head hung off the back of the couch and Bitty could see him around the entryway. Bitty walked up behind him and gave him a clumsy upside down kiss before running his fingers through Jack's hair. Jack hummed and let his eyes slide shut at the feeling.

"I almost knocked before walking in here. Isn't that silly?" Bitty said, self deprecating.

"Not really."

"How did it go?" Bitty asked, quietly.

"It. . . Kind of sucked," Jack said honestly, still quiet. "I said what I needed to say. He said what he needed to say. None of them were nice things. We're not going to be close again. We've both changed for the better, but we're not compatible anymore."

"That is. . . incredibly mature. For the both of you."

"Also he gave me the name of a really horrible wine we should send to my parents in retaliation."

"Less mature, but more fun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kent and Jack talk about their unhealthy relationship. I have written it as two people who tried to be together who were fundamentally incompatible. However, I know many people have said that Kent reminds them of their abuser. If this fic is read with the mentality of Kent as an abuser and Jack as a victim, then parts of this chapter contain victim blaming. 
> 
> And it's done! I think this is my first finished multi-chapter fic on AO3. Thanks for all the lovely comments and kudos!

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](http://marchingatmidnight.tumblr.com/)


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